


And you'll understand French

by sandyk



Category: Fringe (TV)
Genre: Multi, fake married except FAKE POLY MARRIED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandyk/pseuds/sandyk
Summary: "Wait, we need to pretend to be married --""Poly married," Peter said, drily. "Us plus someone else."





	And you'll understand French

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/gifts).



> not mine, no profit garnered. Title from Velma by Kyle Crawford. Takes place in s2 somewhere between 207 and 214. Thanks to the JAM! And A!

"Wait, we need to pretend to be married --"

"Poly married," Peter said, drily. "Us plus someone else."

Broyles nodded and sighed, "I know very well this sound ridiculous. But we have evidence that there is some sort of presence from the other universe out at this location. The center will be hosting a retreat for poly couples, or groupings, something they do quite frequently. If we can get in and fix it without causing panic, this is the way we have to do it."

Olivia felt a little panic. "But Peter and I aren't dating --"

"You both need to go," Broyles said. "You and Peter are the experts here."

"Is our third going to be Astrid?" Peter smiled. "As long as she's comfortable with that."

"Unfortunately, no. Agent Farnsworth is needed here to help Dr. Bishop monitor the information you send back. I've picked an agent from the Hartford office, he's already been briefed. On everything." Broyles stared at both of them. "You two need to go to Hartford today and prepare with Agent Lee. "

Peter said, "Miss Agent Lee or Mr. Agent Lee?"

"It's Mister, his name is Lincoln," Olivia said. "I met him at a conference." She had a stray horrible thought. "Did you know that, sir?"

Broyles said, "Just go, you two. See you next week."

In the car driving to Hartford, Peter said, "So you have prior knowledge of Lincoln Lee."

Olivia glanced away from the road to glare at Peter's smirk. "It was one time. Before John was assigned as my partner."

"It's okay," Peter said. "I'm not judging. I'm sure Broyles doesn't either."

"I know," Olivia said. She hated that she cared so much about it. "So. We're supposed to be married."

"To each other and to Agent Lee. Any chance he's bi and not going to freak out having to pretend to want to have sex with me?"

Olivia said, "I know he is. I don't know if you're his type, but he mentioned it," Olivia said. "I assume he hasn't changed in the last few years."

"I'm attractive," Peter said.

"You just assume a man who's attracted to men would find you attractive?"

"I try to be positive," Peter said. "Before you go further, I'll just say right now I'm also bisexual. Which I bet Broyles knew as well."

"I did actually know that," Olivia said. "I wanted to let you say it to me yourself. But it's in your file."

Peter said, "I thought I didn't have a file."

"You didn't have a file that the FBI wouldn't admit existed, but you have a file," Olivia said.

"I guess we should wait to meet Lincoln to start building our backstory," Peter said.

"Good idea," Olivia said.

Lincoln looked like Olivia remembered. He smiled tightly at the two of them. She thought he looked like someone who'd just discovered there were multiple universes. She wondered which gruesome files Broyles had sent the poor guy.

Lincoln said, "So, I thought, it makes the most sense to go back to my apartment. To figure out our backstory."

Peter waited until they were in Agent Lee's car to say, "Should we do a practice threesome?"

Lincoln said, "We should get used to sleeping together and find a level of familiarity with each other. So we look like we've actually been in relationship for a while."

Olivia rubbed her forehead. "I understand from the retreat materials we have to have been together for a minimum of three years. There will be a need to talk about how we met and how we function."

"And we're not the kind of relationship where Olivia has two husbands, but we all just love each other," Peter said. He seemed to be enjoying this rather than finding it embarrassing. She thought she should probably adopt that attitude. It didn't seem to be happening. 

"There's a name for that," Lincoln said. "Step 1 is the alternate identities the FBI has for us, they all live here in Hartford. Are either of you familiar with Hartford? I can drive you around."

"Let's make that tomorrow's task," Peter said. "I haven't seen our new identities. Please tell me I don't have to remember another name to shout out during sex."

Lincoln nearly smiled at that. "For ease, since we only have a few days to get ready, we have all the same first names. It's probably easiest to keep to our own food preferences and the like."

"I think you're enjoying this too much," Olivia said.

Peter glanced at her. "After all the ridiculous, grotesque, horrifying and deadly things we've seen and been involved with, pretending to be romantically involved with two attractive people for a week and a half sounds like the most fun I'll have this year. I already prefer living with both of you over living with Walter."

Olivia considered and smiled back at him. It wasn't the worst attitude. She thought there was no way Broyles would let the reports get out, but she was still going to be the female agent who had to be undercover with two men. More assumptions would be made. She supposed it would just be more to add to the pile of things other people thought about her. 

Lincoln's apartment was a surprisingly airy one-bedroom. He was either a minimalist in his decorating or, like Olivia, he never unpacked. He led them to the couch in the living room and set their cover identity files on the coffee table. Olivia read through hers, effortlessly memorizing details. Olivia Newsom, IRS agent. Raised by a single mother, no siblings, graduated UCONN with her degree in Accounting, and went straight into accounting law enforcement. Never married, no children. Apparently they were all going to get to make up their romantic history. 

To Olivia's mind, Olivia Newsom wasn't like Rachel and dating two guys at a time or juggling multiple commitments, she was someone who fell in love deeply and not always with one person at a time. What she remembered of Lincoln and what she knew of Peter gave her a framework to shape her made up dating past and more recent poly past.

"I'm a coffee shop manager," Peter said. "Walter wouldn't be surprised that I'm once again not living up to my potential."

"I'm an insurance analyst," Lincoln said. "So, we should --"

"Have either of you actually spent any time undercover?" Peter had a small smile on his face.

"Have you?" Olivia raised an eyebrow.

"Fraud and using a different name is closer than anything you've done," Peter said.

Lincoln said, "Honestly, yes, that's true."

"We don't currently suspect anyone at the retreat of taking advantage of the rift. On the other hand, no one's reported any of the anomalies," Olivia said. "So we don't necessarily need to worry about thorough background checks. We just need to be convincing enough so no one thinks to do it."

"So, let's focus most on the things we're likely to be asked about or will talk about at our retreat. How did we meet? How did we come together?"

Olivia said, "I was, um, dating you both. And making it clear I wasn't exclusively committed to either of you."

"And secretly wishing you could have us both," Peter said, seriously. He rubbed his chin. "And Lincoln and I were casual fuckbuddies. Everyone met me at my coffee place," Peter said.

"Olivia and I met at a conference," Lincoln said.

"Always stick closest to the truth," Peter said. "So one day, Olivia comes by to see me, Lincoln is already there and we discover we're in the midst of a modern sex farce."

Lincoln smiled. "But instead, we all went out together and started to work it out."

"You make it sound almost romantic," Peter said.

"Are we out to our parents?"

Peter said, "Mine are dead. No siblings. I don't care what my employees think since the owner of the shop is an ex who's now happily married and only cares about my work."

"So imaginative," Olivia said. "Um. I think my mother would be confused. I'm probably not making it very clear to her. But this says she lives in California, so I don't have to."

Lincoln said, "My father passed away, and my mother and my brother are pretty easygoing. They are, actually, in reality. I'm not sure how they would take a girlfriend and a boyfriend at the same time, but they've been equally nice to my girlfriends and boyfriends."

"The real test will be if we have kids," Olivia said.

"I definitely want kids," Lincoln said. Olivia wondered if he was saying that in character or as himself. Or maybe he didn't distinguish between the two yet.

"Sure, kids," Olivia said.

"It's not that easy when it's three. That's a good topic we can bring up at the retreat, that we want to talk to other committed couples about being parents, figuring out who knocks up Olivia, if we care," Peter said.

"Let's, uh, let's go through our usual schedules, our aliases' schedules and once we know the day to day, we can talk through hanging out, other things," Lincoln said.

"Sex," Peter said. "Are we still a wild sexy threesome, or have we slowed down to twice a week when no one's tired? What about little twosomes during the week, oh, you're so tired, Peter, me and Lincoln'll just fuck over here," Peter said, leaning back and smiling again. He was really enjoying this. "Oh, I think once we've been together more than three years, neither of you would look so startled at that." 

"Let's, let's just get used to moving around each other, starting in the kitchen. It's lunchtime," Lincoln said.

Olivia knew intellectually she needed to throw herself into her role, but she went to bed early in her cami and pajama pants, leaving Peter and Lincoln chatting on the couch. The two of them were definitely getting along well. They'd be more convincing as a couple than she would be, she thought and was angry at herself.

She woke up at some point, looking from the bed into the kitchen. Peter and Lincoln were kissing, then Peter was kissing down Lincoln's neck and his hands were tight on Lincoln's arms. She looked further down and Peter's shirt was untucked, his jeans falling down to his thighs. He wasn't wearing underwear. She wondered idly if he'd been wearing underwear earlier. She looked again and saw Lincoln's wet hand on Peter's dick. She pressed her thighs together and tried to breathe quietly. She didn't want to be part of it, not yet, but she wanted to be closer. When Peter came, she wished she could taste the mess on Lincoln's hand and stomach.

Apparently, Peter felt the same. He grinned and sunk to his knees, more kisses and now tiny licks to Lincoln's pale stomach. She discovered she could be incredibly turned on watching, at least, it seemed, if she were watching Peter giving someone a blowjob. She closed her eyes and resisted touching herself. She let the sounds from the kitchen paint the rest of the picture for her, Lincoln's grunts and the absurd wet noises from Peter. After Lincoln came, louder than Peter, the two of them kissed again. She heard running water and more laughter. Peter said something about the best weirdest first date.

She kept her eyes closed and tried to fall back asleep.

She woke up again in darkness as she felt Peter settle into the bed next to her, behind her. He said, "Liv? This is okay?"

He smelled like he'd just showered. She said, "Yes."

When she woke up in the morning, she felt surprisingly rested. She didn't want to move, either. She and Peter had migrated over the course of the night and she was pressed against his back, her arm on his. She wasn't used to sleeping with anyone, not a regular basis. She thought she could adapt, this sort of warm comfort of Peter's smell and feel and smooth skin against her cheek. She had drooled a little, she realized, and smiled. She rolled to the other side and got out of bed.

She automatically did her push ups and crunches. She stood up and saw Peter had woken up and had been watching her. He looked, oddly to her, compassionate. He said, "Don't get mad at me."

She glared at him as she went into the bathroom to shower. It was nice, spare, clean. She and Lincoln had very similar taste. If it were really also her home, though, she wouldn't have had to go back into the bedroom and retrieve her razor from her bag. When she finished her shower, she wrapped the towel she'd taken around her and then stood in the bedroom, considering. If she'd been living with these men for over three years, she wouldn't be modest, she decided. She dropped the towel and put in the hamper before going back to her bag and picking out her clothes. Peter and his pitying gaze were back asleep, he laid sprawled on his stomach, the sheets tangled around his legs. He'd put on sweat pants before going to bed with her the night before.

Lincoln came in while she pulling up her pants. He said, "Um, we kinda made out last night."

"I know," Olivia said. "You were both a little loud."

Lincoln was definitely embarrassed and almost blushing. It made her smile at him. She said, "It's good. It's part of this undercover gig. It's like you and Peter just met. You did just meet. And none of us are in a committed relationship so we're not cheating on anyone. Right?" She'd never even asked Lincoln.

"No, no, I'm not," Lincoln said. "It seems like you and Peter are in some sort of relationship."

"We're partners," she said. "We work together closely."

"Can't even call us friends," Peter grumbled. He sat up with a warm smile. "We're friends, though. We are."

"Of course we are," she said. "So. Should we spend the day making out?"

She made both of them laugh. Lincoln said, "I need breakfast first."

Olivia had a very lewd thought about liquid breakfast. So she was getting in character, finally. 

Later that day, while Lincoln was checking his email, she sat across from Peter at Lincoln's plain wooden table. "It's weird," she said to Peter. "I'm sorry."

"That I'm happy to make out with someone we just met?"

"Weird is the wrong word. I'm not judging you," Olivia said. "I should let go."

"You should do whatever you feel comfortable with," Peter said. "But yeah, it's a free pass. Why not? We're supposed to be people who have sex together. If you need to convince yourself, think of the kind of comfort level people in a sexual relationship can have with each other."

"I'm comfortable with you and we're not having sex," she said.

"I wish we were," Peter said. He looked down without saying he was kidding and she let the moment pass. He said, "Of course, sex doesn't make for comfort. But if you need to convince yourself to let go and get laid, I'm offering you an excuse."

They drove around Hartford and Olivia memorized streets and shops. 

Peter ducked into a coffee shop while Olivia and Lincoln sat in the car. Lincoln said, "Is it true about the cortexiphan, about what Dr. Bishop --"

"Did to me? It is," Olivia said. "You had a lot of fun reading."

"I'm sorry," Lincoln said. "That would be hard, I think, working with him."

"And his almost complete lack of guilt? I try not to think about it," Olivia said. 

"Sorry," Lincoln said. "Do you think you would ever do something like this?"

"Be in a threesome? I don't think so. I've never been very good at relationships and I can't imagine having two other people involved would make it easier," Olivia said. 

"I was thinking something like that," Lincoln said. "But then I thought maybe two other people would make it easier."

"Really?" Olivia smiled at him. 

"It's a balance, the things people bring to a relationship," Lincoln said. 

"Okay," Olivia said. 

Peter got in and gave them both their coffees. He said, "What are we talking about?"

That night Lincoln slept on the couch again. "Tomorrow night," she said. "We really have to make this work as the three of us."

In the morning, Olivia laid in bed and resisted all thoughts of getting up. She bet IRS agent Olivia wanted the occasional day to sleep in, too. Peter laid down next to her, on top of the covers. He said, "Olivia." He was looking straight at her, she could count his eyelashes.

"Peter," she said. "This isn't easy. I don't know how to do this, this assignment."

"Just this assignment," Peter said, nodding. "It's not like I've been in so many relationships, either."

They stared at each other for another long moment. She said, "But I wish I was."

They stared again. Then she was very tired and she leaned in and kissed him. He kissed her and she kissed him and his hands were on her. She realized she'd wanted it for so long, wanted him for so long. He seemed to want her. He definitely wanted her. Then they were naked and then it was amazing. It was a kind of connection she didn't think she'd had in years. There was Peter in front of her, on top of her. He stopped. She said, "I have an IUD, unlike Olivia IRS."

"You call her Olivia IRS," Peter said, smiling. Then he was inside her and it was perfect and raw and she was overwhelmed. She was wonderfully overwhelmed.

"This is a day," Olivia said. They were still naked, laying on the bed, his hand on her hip, hers on his forearm. "I want to keep doing this after."

"It was excellent sex," he said. He stroked her hip. "I want all of it."

She smiled at him and then kissed him again. She said, "Me, too."

They were mostly sort of making out again when Lincoln came in the room. Olivia clutched at the tossed aside sheets, but they were supposed to be getting used to each other. Lincoln had certainly seen all of Peter. She tried not to shift to hide herself.

Lincoln said, "So that's good, then?"

"Don't worry," Olivia said. She sat up.

"It's worth worrying about," Lincoln said. "I think we have to be careful about throwing ourselves too much into these roles because we're not actually in a relationship and we won't be after this is done."

"Well," Peter said.

"Okay, you two will," Lincoln said. "Try not to be too obvious about it when we're pretending to be three."

"Promise," Olivia said.

They watched movies all afternoon, trying to create in jokes and ease with each other. Peter kept getting up to get snacks and drinks and then coming back to sit on the end. Olivia noted Peter was doing his best to keep Lincoln in the middle. She understood the intent. Besides, Lincoln was good company. He smiled more than either of them. He laughed a lot more. 

Peter said, "Favorite movie?"

"Um, Evil Dead," Olivia said.

"Evil Dead?" Lincoln laughed a little.

"I also love Lost Boys," Olivia said. "You're eating maggots." She pointed at the rice from the Chinese takeout on the table. "What's your favorite?"

"Maybe Good Will Hunting, the first Bourne movie --"

"Anything with Matt Damon," Peter said. "Someone has a crush."

"He's an excellent actor," Lincoln said, smiling again. "Just you left, Peter."

"Brazil," Peter said. "Silence of the Lambs."

"Someone's dark and edgy," Lincoln said.

"I also love Monty Python and every single Muppet movie ever made," Peter said. "We all have layers."

Olivia said, "Do you have a favorite Muppet?"

"100% Rolf, of course," Peter said.

Olivia said, "Because he plays piano?"

Peter nodded. Lincoln said, "Do you play piano?"

"He plays very well," Olivia said.

"You look proud," Lincoln said. "I play chess."

"I'm proud of you?" Olivia leaned against Lincoln's shoulder.

At one point, Lincoln was choosing between Friday and Are We There Yet, Olivia followed Peter into the kitchen. She said, "This is a little weird."

Peter shook his head. He said, "Look, we should talk about what happens after."

"We can wait until after," Olivia said. "I won't be upset, or anything about you and Lincoln, doing things."

"Things?" Peter had a cautious smile.

"Sex," she said.

"Well, right back atcha," Peter said. "Doesn't this sound a little insane? Maybe we're being too method."

"It doesn't feel too method," Olivia said. "I don't know that that rules out insanity."

"You're always very together," Peter said.

"You're very wrong," Olivia said.

"I was being nice," Peter said.

Peter went to bed early this time. Olivia said, "I'll watch any of the Bourne movies if you want."

It was her second time with Lincoln. At the conference they'd had a few beers and had been bonding over their relative youth and inexperience. He had lovely eyes, she had thought. This time was better. He was worshipful with her. Even though he knew she'd been experimented on. It was an odd train of thought, and she fell away from it when she came. She said, "I told you, tonight you sleep with me and Peter."

The night before they left they had an actual threesome. Peter initiated it, he was always the one who did. It didn't take much for Olivia and Lincoln to follow. She loved it. It seemed like no one was in the middle, but somehow she was connected to both of them. Lincoln burst out laughing at one point, kissed Olivia passionately and then Peter. He said, "I love the FBI."

The first event at the retreat after they checked in and put their bags in their cabin was a mixer. There were eight other groups/threesomes/triades. Olivia was unsure of the terminology. She felt this was in character because they'd decided, the three of them, that they didn't know any other poly couples in the area and did most of their research and bonding online. Peter was predictably charming and fit right in immediately. Olivia and Lincoln sat at a back table. "We're going to end up a fivesome or eightsome," Lincoln said. "Peter's going to bring them all in."

"He's smarter than that," Olivia said. "And he's not that charming. He just does surface impressions well." She frowned. "That sounded mean."

"No, I get it," Lincoln said. "It's not mean. He seems to save the real him for the people he likes, like you."

"He likes you, too," Olivia said.

"I'm good," Lincoln said. "It's okay."

Peter brought people back to their wallflower table and started conversations, directed them. She thought he must have been better at being a con man than she had assumed. Or maybe charm wasn't the reason his scams had failed. As they walked back to their cabin, Olivia said, "You can turn on all that charm, but you still got booted from MIT and half of Boston wanted to kill you last year."

"It wasn't half of Boston, and I did take care of that," Peter said. "Are you trying to say you think I was an unsuccessful con man?"

"That's what your record says," Olivia said.

"It's not the most accurate record in the world, you know," Peter said.

She pushed her hair behind her ear and said, "Sorry."

Lincoln stayed quiet. Olivia knew exactly why she was being so prickly, even if she hated herself for it. 

The cabin had a california king bed, a large bathroom with a big shower, and one couch. No TV, no refrigerator or hot plate. "Oh, no," Lincoln said. "We don't get a coffee maker? Come on."

"I got it," Peter said. He'd packed a french press. Lincoln noted that they had no way to heat the water. "We have a pointless pot here in the cabinet," Peter said. "And a working fireplace. I've got us covered."

"I can't believe you packed a french press," Olivia said.

"You both brought guns, I wanted to contribute."

"Time to explore," Lincoln said. "Speaking of guns."

The three of them set out for what they would call a brisk walk if stopped. Peter led them to where Massive Dynamic had picked up the anomalous readings for the past week. It was a rock spur 30 yards from the main area. Peter squinted at the spur. He said, "There's amber all over it. I think it was a wormhole and someone on the other side plugged it."

"With amber?" Lincoln reached his hand to touch the amber coating most of the rock spur, coming out of a thin crack about 2 inches wide towards the top.

"It would work," Peter said. He squatted next to the rock spur and picked at the very edge of the amber. He took out a pocket knife, heated the blade with a light and then cut off a quarter sized chunk. He put it in a thermos. As the three of them stared, the amber fogged and then solidified, replacing the chunk.

"Is this like the amber in the bus?" Lincoln had walked over to the other side of the spur.

"You read those files very thoroughly," Olivia said.

"It's astonishing stuff," he said.

Peter said, "It's different from that. Much more sophisticated. It was probably tinkered with and improved specifically to block these kind of wormholes. Also, this hole wasn't plugged until last night."

Olivia said, "How can you tell?" 

Peter glanced over at her. He was still squatting by the amber, now with his flashlight shining through it. "One of the staff told me it rained last night, first time in a week. There's drops of water caught in this amber."

Peter stood and started flipping a quarter. Lincoln said, "Are we betting on something?"

"We're making sure the law of Physics still work," Peter said. "This was one of Walter's suggested tests before he drugged himself into oblivion. He takes this wormhole thing very seriously." Peter held up the quarter. "6 heads, 4 tails, we have normal probability." Next Peter took out a cigarette and lit it.

"As your fake boyfriend of over three years, I think you should stop smoking," Lincoln said.

"I can haul around sophisticated scientific equipment and make everyone suspicious or I can Maguyver this," Peter said. He watched the patterns of the smoke and took a long drag. "Cigarette says we're good, no lingering effects."

"So we go home," Lincoln said. "Hole plugged. Thank you, other side?"

"So I guess we can go," Lincoln said. "Hole plugged."

"We should stay," Olivia said. Both men looked at her. She sensed they wanted to be convinced. She said, "It wasn't plugged until last night and there were readings for close to 10 days. Anyone from the staff could have come out here and who knows how they were affected."

"Good point," Peter said. "Back to our huge bed, then."

The next morning they sat with everyone else as a lawyer with an expertise in family law explained the various legal workarounds that would help a threesome (Olivia still wasn't sure of the correct nomenclature). It was interesting in the abstract, but when she looked over at Peter he was listening intently. Her first thought was that he planning something, some sort of scam. But he wouldn't do that now. Maybe he was thinking about after.

Olivia went back to paying attention before she was thinking about after.

At the group lunch, all three of them subtly interrogated staff members to see if anyone had trekked out to the outcropping where the hole had been. No one said they had. "But," Peter said, "the guy who runs these things apparently loves to go camping out there and he's flaked out on this week."

"Flaked out?" Olivia raised an eyebrow.

"It's not out of character for him to just not show up and so far, he has just not showed up," Lincoln said. "One of the admin staff told me she saw him last week, though."

"So we could have someone who experienced the wormhole," Olivia said. "But we didn't see a body or anything out there when we were there."

He had a room upstairs where he stayed, Peter noted. "We can check after dinner."

Olivia almost wanted to think of an excuse to check later, in a day or two. She was enjoying her kind of vacation, and part of her liked that she could put off actually thinking about a relationship with Peter another few days. Instead she said, "Well, off to the afternoon sessions."

This one was for "people who have uteruses who may someday give birth." Olivia went hoping to sit in the back but the chairs were of course arranged in a circle. There was a moderator with unnerving questions. Olivia told herself Olivia IRS would contribute, even if all the feelings and hesitations were the real Olivia's. She said, "Like some of you were saying, I grew up, there was abuse. I feel disconnected from even the idea of me as a mother. My body already feels, sometimes it feels like an alien thing to me. I can't imagine pregnancy won't exacerbate that."

One of the other participants, who had given birth, said, "For me, it absolutely made it worse. And it was even more awful because everyone kept expecting me to glory in this miracle of making a baby. I felt like I was failing as a person all over again."

The moderator said, "Some people have very positive experiences with pregnancy and childbirth. Unfortunately everyone else has their experience downplayed because too often, we don't want to hear that."

The discussion turned to being a mother, relating to a child. "I don't think I'll be a good mother," Olivia said. "I'm not warm in the right way. I think Peter, Peter and Lincoln would both be great dads, but I don't know about me."

Another participant said, "There's so much bullshit around the word mother, I just thought of myself as a parent. No one expects much from a generic parent." She laughed.

"My mother was the one who stood by and let people hurt me," another woman said. "So I had to be the mother to myself and my little brothers. When do I get to be the one who's taken care of?"

Olivia walked out hoping they did find the owner's dead body somewhere so they could just leave. She regretted speaking, she regretted listening. She tried to get her face in order but as soon as she saw Peter, he looked concerned and pulled her into his arms. Olivia thought that Olivia IRS had been with this man for close to three years, she would let him hug her, she would let herself be comforted. So she tucked her head into his shirt and didn't tense when he ran his hand through her hair.

Olivia heard Lincoln's voice saying "Hand off," then Peter steered her into Lincoln's arms. He was a good hugger, too. In character, she thought, she was playing a part of someone who would naturally turn to these two when she was stressed.

She did feel better. Then Lincoln kissed her forehead and Peter handed her a coffee. Lincoln said, "Good?"

She nodded and smiled at both of them.

After dinner, they went back to their cabin, Peter got the bag of equipment he'd brought and they headed back to the main conference area. It was surprisingly easy to enter the part of the main house where the leader lived, and even easier to get to his bedroom. "This lock is so easy, I'm almost insulted," Peter said, standing up.

The conference leader was very dead and very tinged with purple, sprawled on the covers like he'd just laid down for a minute. And then turned purple. The body didn't even smell. "This is so weird," Lincoln said.

"This is barely weird," Peter said.

"I know I shouldn't complain, but shouldn't a dead body smell worse? Or at all? Is he possibly alive?"

Peter was already hunched over the body examining. He said, "Oh, he's definitely dead." Olivia was glad that her viewpoint meant she didn't have to see whatever Peter was doing that caused the squelching sounds. "100% dead," Peter said.

Lincoln said, "What happened to him?"

"I think he was camping by an open wormhole and some form of something was coming out that he absorbed and it killed him," Peter said. "We can be more precise after the autopsy."

Lincoln said, "We could wait a few days to call it in." He looked at both of them. "He doesn't smell. He's not radiating anything, right? I don't know, maybe this sounds awful. It's like a vacation here."

"A sexcation," Peter said, with a smirk. "I'm not the one who has to write a report detailing why it took us five days to break into this house."

Olivia thought. Lincoln said, "I'm just enjoying pretending to be dating you two. That's no reason to prolong an operation, I'm sorry."

"I'm okay with it," Peter said. "If something horrible and gruesome happens, they'll definitely call us. This place is beautiful now that everything's sealed up."

Olivia closed her eyes and opened them. She said, "Okay. Let's do that. Peter has to check this body every day, though. If something changes, we call Broyles immediately."

"Define the degree of change," Peter said. "No, never mind, let's go."

They actually made it five days without too significant a change in the corpse. Despite Peter's joke about a sexcation, they weren't really having sex constantly. They went to seminars and mixers. Olivia felt a little guilty that she couldn't keep in touch with some of the people she'd met. She would definitely miss the warmth and tumble of waking up with Peter and Lincoln near her.

She would absolutely miss the sex.

They called Broyles after the conference ended and helped the FBI team pack up the corpse and some of the materials in the room to send back to Walter's lab.

Before she was ready, they were back at Lincoln's apartment saying goodbye. He kissed them both. He said, "Outside of the frankly horrifying part where I learned about all the disgusting things that can happen to a person and that there is a parallel universe and it hates us, this has been really great."

"You are allowed to keep in touch," Peter said. "If not literally touching us."

"I don't think playacting at being poly is the best way to start a relationship," Lincoln said.

"I wasn't saying that," Peter said. "Though people find themselves in the strangest ways. But. I'm sure Broyles will call you for help, there aren't many agents like you."

Olivia said, "Ones who've had sex with both of us?" She waited for Lincoln to smile. "You're a great agent, I bet he'll want you to help with Fringe cases."

"I didn't put any of the sex parts in my report," Lincoln said. "Did you?"

"No, not at all," Olivia said quickly.

"If I had to write a report, it would been nothing but porn," Peter said. "Maybe with hand drawn diagrams."

"Okay, now everyone leave before this gets even more awkward," Lincoln said. "Which is not to say I don't like you both, because I do."

"I like you, too," Olivia said.

Then they were driving home and it was just Peter and Olivia. And now was after.

"So," Olivia said.

"Great opening," Peter said. "Look, I want us to be together. You want that, too. We can do this."

"At least we know we're already compatible in bed," she said. 

Peter started spending 4 or 5 nights at her place. One night, as they lay in bed, "I'd move in, but I have to bring Walter."

"I didn't say I'd let you move in, and definitely not with Walter," she said. 

"He's never going to live without me there," Peter said. 

"I know," Olivia said. "But when it comes to that, we're getting a house with a guest cottage in the back."

"He will grow some amazing pot in that cottage while he sleeps in the living room," Peter said. 

She kissed him. "Maybe someday we'll meet a third for us."

Peter said, "Didn't we do that already?"

"Maybe," Olivia said. "If he lived here, I wouldn't mind if you two were still friends."

"Having sex kind of friends?" 

Olivia rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. "Huh. Yeah. But only Lincoln, no other boyfriends for you."

"And you would be friends with him?" 

She looked over at him and he wasn't even teasing that much. She said, "Maybe. He is, we had a good sexcation."

A month after they wrapped the poly case, Broyles came into the lab to announce that he'd had Lincoln assigned to Boston and the Fringe Division. 

Olivia said, "You know, if he wants a place to stay while he's looking for a new apartment, he can stay with me."

"I'll let him know," Broyles said, impassive as ever.


End file.
